


whatever it takes

by Lizzen



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consent Issues, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Pansexual Character, Sex Work, Voyeurism, brief mention of tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Lando isn’t one to judge, isn’t one to have a self-shaming spiral. If he can’t win at the cards, if he can’t talk his way into a thing -- his mouth can do the trick. Make anyone, anything melt, surrender. It’s incredible what little he has to do to get what he wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to th_esaurus <3

When he’s fourteen, a boy sucks his dick and it is mostly terrible, but he comes like a fucking starburst and he thinks to himself: okay, this is _something else_.

When he’s seventeen and eating a girl out on a whim, not really knowing what he’s doing, and she’s writhing and wailing out his name like a prayer, he realizes: fucking is one thing but this is where it counts.

*  
Lando isn’t one to judge, isn’t one to have a self-shaming spiral. If he can’t win at the cards, if he can’t talk his way into a thing -- his mouth can do the trick. Make anyone, anything melt, surrender. It’s incredible what little he has to do to get what he wants. 

*  
There was a man on Orca who fucked into his mouth so hard that Lando almost bit down, fought him off and ran for it. But he needed credits, he needed to get off world and this was his ticket. Later, there was a hand in his hair, gentle in the afterglow, and his mouth tasted so bitter. Still. Credits in hand, more than negotiated. 

There was a regional governor on Naboo who had never been touched like this, never tasted. Never been fucked with a tongue in her cunt and hands wrenching her thighs apart. He kept it up for hours, longer than he needed. She came so many times he lost count, his ears ringing with the sound of her screams. She gave him codes, oh so many codes, and his travel was never impeded in that corner of space until Tarkin replaced her.

There was a Pyke operative who gave as good as he got, threw Lando onto his back and sucked his dick with some sort of apparatus that gave him pause, but it felt so good. Made him lose his usual bluster and swagger for a real, a true loss of self.

And there was a Crimson Dawn lieutenant who fucked him after he silenced her threats with kisses down low. She fucked him raw; incredible. Delicious. She was a kindred, he thought, someone who understood what sex meant. What sex did. He didn’t get anything out of the deal but his dick wet, his dick satiated. She informed her boss about his debt and he had two years to fix it. 

*  
“Qi’ra,” he says after seeing her again. And her smile is as sweet as a ripe strawberry.

*  
Her boy is a treat for the eyes, Lando is not immune to a handsome face. But his mouth is where Lando’s gaze lingers. What he could do with that smart mouth. What he could make that smart mouth _say_.

*  
He’s not quite sure what alien species this-- this creature is. Or what gender it is; if it even has one. But it holds the keys to a ship Lando wants and Lando will happily suck down on whatever tentacle this alien has till it pulsates with some kind of blue secretion and gasps out like humanoids usually do. 

He’s learned that sex is generally the same across species as long as you know _what_ goes into _where_.

Lando doesn’t fight it when the alien holds him down, fucks him with the same tentacle like it’s no big thing. Despite the fact that this wasn’t part of the deal, this wasn’t negotiated, but Lando enjoys it well enough. He’s been through worse.

The ship is incredible. It’s not the _Falcon_ , but what ship could possibly be?

*  
He wins at a sabacc table, enough to keep him flush for six months. He spends it on rooms and clothes and sunfruit. Sleeps till noon everyday and returns to the tables for a casual game here and there. A man catches his eye and he blows him in an alley, something rough and sweet, and his mouth aches from the size of that dick in his mouth. Almost unnatural for a humanoid. “I’d like to see you do that again,” the man says after. Lando swallows, thinking of it, and they fuck for weeks before they both tire of it. 

“If you’re ever in the Anoat system, you can find me on Cloud City,” the man says.

*  
A decade later, he’s dead by the time Lando gets there. 

The galaxy has its dangers.

*  
He almost meets his match with a woman with three cunts of which have to be pleasured all at the same time for her to come. But he figures it out; he has two hands, one dick, and one mouth and that’s plenty enough. 

She keeps the Hutts off his back for almost five years.

*  
Crimson Dawn operatives grab him near Taanab and he’s on her ship in a state of undress pretty shortly after. She’s not kind to him, not like before. Something’s soured her; changed her. Power is a dark mistress.

He comes pretty immediately and spends the rest of the time sucking her dry, his tongue and lips and teeth making her weak beneath him. He could do something about it, he could try something, but she’s got a Mandalorian watching them from the open door. A crowd of folks high on spice behind it, mostly oblivious. Mostly. 

She’s gotten better at the game, and he respects it. 

There’s a job for him after, and he does his best. Makes her loads of credits and his cut is sizeable. 

“You’ll see him again,” she says in parting. “Give him this for me.” And for the first time, she kisses him. Gentle, and chaste. A lover’s kiss.

*  
He hates Tatooine more than anything; sand and heat and Hutts. It’s made sweeter with the Tonnika sisters, who don’t mind being fucked at the same time if he’s sharp enough to keep them both interested, both coming in successive order. His lips are swollen from eating pussy twice over and his tongue feels weak by the time the door opens and Han walks in. 

“Ladies,” Han says, and they purr appreciatively. He slams credits on the table and says: “I’ll make it worth your--”

And they scatter.

“I need you for a job,” Han says, crossing his arms. Looking firmly at Lando’s face.

“I’m busy,” Lando says. 

“And I’m paying,” Han replies.

Lando stares at him, an even gaze. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”


	2. Chapter 2

The job is on Jeculan; there’s a Grand Moff that the Hutts want control of and blackmail is the scheme. 

Tiens is the youngest of the Grand Moffs; sullen and bored in holos. Elevated too fast, Lando thinks. The perfect mark. No obvious vices; spice, booze, cards, sex. But there’s nothing to do on Jeculan. The people are broken and the planet is dying. 

All they have to do is get close enough to dose him with the Goodnight spice and falsified evidence can be easily planted. 

The job will be simple.

*  
A hired slicer gets Han invited to the party, and Lando accompanies as his plus one. Both in colorful bespoke suits and outlandish eyeliner. They make quite a show against the dull greys and blues of Imperials and the wealthiest locals. There’s rose-colored wine and listless chatter; an unspeakably tiresome affair. Still, Lando sees plenty of opportunity for a side job or two; ripe fruit to harvest in these undersexed, tired faces. 

The Grand Moff arrives late, his mouth in a frown. A glower that silences the crowd, and turns the room brittle. “Hail the Empire,” the host says, lackluster in tone, and everyone echoes it with glasses half risen in the air. 

Lando says it with more gusto than the others, calling attention to himself. The man takes one look at him and his eyes linger long on Lando’s mouth. 

His lips curve up into a smile. He didn’t sign on to be a honeypot, but credits are credits.

*  
He pulls Han aside to tell him the change in plan and Han gapes. “You think you can--”

“--I know I can,” Lando says. 

Han’s mouth is a firm line. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” and he laughs. “He looks like he could use a good time.”

“I don’t like it.” Han stares at him, looking like a wounded dog. “Stick to the plan--”

“--the plan is boring.” Lando says, pushing in, lips so close: “You want to score or not?”

And that’s when something strange happens. Han flinches, his body in some kind of shudder, and suddenly his mouth is on his. Han is kissing him. Fully. And like they’ve done this before. Opened mouth and tasting so sweet. It’s a kiss between lovers; something warm and wonderful and Lando feels suddenly watery at the knees. A complication he didn’t expect. 

“Am I interrupting?” a voice says softly, and something sinks in his belly. An act. This is an act for--

He pulls away. “Your excellency,” he says to the approaching Grand Moff. And his gaze grows hungry. “Would you care to join?” 

“I’d like to watch,” he says. Lando tilts his head to the side, and appraises Han’s easy going expression. It’s a mask over panic, he can see Han’s hand in a fist. This is going to be interesting.

*  
The Grand Moff’s suite is more austere than Lando anticipated but the bed is large enough for three. His heart beat skips. This was not how he intended to bed Han, but there’s nothing for it.

Han looks relaxed but there’s something skittish in his eyes. “Any chance you have a--” Han starts before Lando moves close, crashes his lips against his. 

There’s a moment where nothing happens, just the touch of skin against skin, and then Han sighs like a lover. Open his mouth, and the performance begins. Han kisses like he flies; a mix of wild abandon and refined skill. All tongue and little teeth; licking into his mouth with a heat. Lando’s breathing hard by the time Han’s lips move to his neck, sucking the skin there like they’ve done this all their lives. Kissing is never Lando’s favorite thing to do with his mouth, but Han makes him lose track of time, lose focus on the task at hand. 

“You,” the Moff says, grabbing Han by the hair and wrenching it back. “I want to see you use that mouth.” Han blinks and Lando sees his throat expand a little as he gasps in air. Then his hands reach for Lando’s belt, fumbling with it immediately. Lando feels himself go hard in anticipation, and he ruts against Han’s hands a little. A playacting moment that makes the Moff sigh. 

Lando smiles when his dick is out, when Han slides his nose against it like a lover does. “He loves this part,” he says and Han hums appreciatively. 

What a world they’ll live in when this is over, Lando thinks.

It’s impressive, how easily and how well Han takes him into his mouth. Seasoned. Lando grunts immediately without intending to and his body shudders with desire. “It won’t be long, baby,” he says, patting Han’s full cheek. 

“Make it last,” the Moff orders. And Lando’s heart stutters.

It takes a skill to keep a man from coming quickly in your mouth, and he wonders if Han is up to the job.

Han breathes out, and works up to an excruciatingly slow rhythm with just enough pressure to drive a man wild but not enough to make him come. Lando’s sucks in air and some kind of cry comes out of him. 

It’s moment by moment of agonizing ache as Han tortures him with his mouth. He’s going to lose it, lose it right here and now as Han drives him into desire like he’s never known. Pleasure is unattainable, it’s only the steady climb but never the summit. Curses flow out of his mouth, begging words and debased things, but Han keeps it up. Never stops. 

There’s nothing for it, and Lando’s body is so tense that he writhes from the pain of it. “Please,” he says, finally, looking to the Moff. “Please.” 

The Moff smiles and approaches them. Curls his fingers in Han’s hair. “Do it,” he says.

Han’s mouth becomes a tight suction and his fingers slide up between Lando’s legs and circle his rim. 

His sight goes white, his body goes rigid, and his mind seems to collapse upon itself. In moments, when he’s slightly more awake, he realizes he’s pulsing hard into Han’s mouth and yelling something in Huttese. It’s awful, it’s so awful; and yet--

He looks down and Han’s cheeks are red, his eyes watery, and his expression-- amused?

The Moff sighs, visibly relaxed and his fingers still in Han’s hair. “I want him to fuck you,” he says, looking at Lando with something cruel in his eye. “Get on the bed.”

“I—” Han starts and then closes his mouth. Looks determined. Fierce. Lando bites his lip. Intrigued. 

It takes some time to position, to prep, and to follow orders, but Lando breathes out slowly when Han sinks into him. Filled up, he ignores the mark and ignores the mission and pushes against Han, saying: “you better buckle up, baby.”

Han huffs and then he moves. 

Everything seems to disappear in the sheer debauched act. Han’s good, thoughtful even. He fucks in with a steady precision and yet his gasps are wanton, full of neediness and longing. _What a good boy_ , Lando thinks and rides out the feeling of being so deliciously fucked. 

He ignores the mark, ignores whatever it is he’s saying, and just concentrates on the feeling. Surely, they’re making a good show, but Lando doesn’t even care. Overwhelmed by feeling, Lando finds himself whimpering as hips slam into hips, bodies sliding together in a perfect union. It’s good, it’s so good. And then, Han freezes and a grunt rises out of him as he comes hard, spilling inside of him. Lando takes it, a soft smile on his face. He hasn’t been fucked like this in an _age_. 

They breathe together as one; over and over and over again until their breathing is steady.

“My turn,” the Moff says, waking them up out of their reverie. Lando throws Han a look, and Han pulls out, a mess, and gets to his feet. 

“As you wish,” he says, and gets close enough to pull a fist back and slam it so hard into the Moff’s face that it will leave a bruise. The Moff crashes to the floor, knocked out.

“We could have used the Goodnight,” Lando says, slightly petulant. 

“I want him to hurt in the morning,” Han says, roughly. 

Lando looks at him, careful, carefully. “We gonna need to talk about this?”

“It’s a job,” Han says, finding his pants and throwing Lando’s on the bed. 

“Was it?” Lando asks, quiet now.

“It was a job,” Han says, not looking at him.

Lando smiles then. “We need to work on your lying.”

And something soft shows on Han’s face. A tell. Lando bites down a chuckle and gets to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning about upcoming consent issues scene.

It’s only after his dick is spent that Lando finds out what he won in a game of chance.

“I’m tired,” the older man says, looking up at the ceiling and surprisingly melancholy after what was truly a remarkable fuck. “And you’re hale and hearty. Ambitious too. You’ll do well.”

“Do well?” Lando says, confused. Still catching his breath. “At what?”

There’s something akin to mischief in the man’s eyes now. “What do you know about Tibanna gas?”

*  
That’s when everything changes.

*  
As the Baron Administrator of a struggling mining colony, there’s all sorts of deals to be made on the up and up; and some with exhaustive measures of another sort. He’s found ways with his mouth, with either side of his silver tongue, to negotiate and bargain. With thousands of workers and several million citizens in his care, the stakes are higher now.

And he finds himself willing to do anything to protect them.

*  
He allows only one criminal organization to have a foothold in his community. And with her constant visits, that foothold grows stronger. She says it’s just spice running, but he knows she recruits from the lower classes.

He remembers his own seduction into the darker side of the galaxy; he remembers how sweet it tasted.

So he allows it.

*  
“I heard something interesting,” Qi’ra says to him, threading her fingers through his hair before working to remove his cape. “About our boy.”

He’s heard something interesting too. “He’s a wanted man.”

Her lips curl up into a smile. “He’s always been a wanted man, hasn’t he?” And there’s something warm in her eyes; something he doesn’t often see. His heart softens a little for her. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“The sucker bought into the cause,” Lando replies. “Probably for credits.”

“Probably for some girl,” she says, moving close. A shadow crosses over her face, and then her lips meet his.

*  
There’s a similarity between his old life and the new: his customers remain anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves. Particularly from the Empire; a danger looming like a shadow.

He struggles with it. Struggles with being landlocked, as it were; no way to grab his things and fly away. Struggles with the knowledge that one false step could turn him, turn this place into ash and dust.

*  
And it goes a little like this:

“You must be so proud of this thing you have built,” he says.

Lando nods, so nervous he can feel sweat on his back. “Of course, there are still many improvements to make.”

“Tibanna is quite a valuable resource for any navy,” he says.

Lando sucks in air, relieved. “You’re here for the gas?”

His guest does not quite chuckle. “No, Calrissian,” Darth Vader says. “I am not.”

*  
He’s used to honeyed words and sly smiles in negotiations, regardless of the other party’s species or predilections. Always found himself successful at getting what he wants in one way or another.

But this is his first time to negotiate with a sith lord, and he’s sure it will be his last.

*  
Turn up the lights, cue the music, and let the terrible show begin.

*  
It’s telling that Han doesn’t corner him immediately, cover his mouth with his own. It’s telling that Han has his eyes fixed on the princess. It’s telling that Han seems more relaxed that he’s ever seen.

She’s good for him.

It makes Lando’s next steps almost unbearable.

*  
_\--that was never a condition of our agreement, nor was giving Han to this bounty hunter--_

*  
Once, on a mission together, Han spent the better part of an hour tearing Lando apart, bit by bit. They missed the rendezvous but made up for it later. Made a killing later.

But hell, the touch of his skin and the skill of his mouth; Lando was stunned by it. Weakened by it. This was something new; fresh. Remarkable.

“You should stay,” Lando said, at the point of Han’s departure back to Tatooine. Back to Jabba. “I want you to stay.”

Han smiled like the sun, beautifully wide. “I know.” And he moved, turning away, turning his back on him.

Lando thinks about that moment in the hellish horror of the carbonite chamber; his fists so tight that his fingernails cut into his skin.

*  
He learns something about himself that day. A million people in his care and there’s only one soul he wants to save.

*  
_\--there's still a chance to save Han--_

*  
After, Skywalker corners him.

“I’m sorry--,” is what Lando leads with but the man raises his hand in silencing gesture.

“You knew him before,” Skywalker says. “Before all of this.”

Lando raises his chin. “Yes, before all of this.”

“And he trusted you?”

There’s a smile desperate to emerge. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Skywalker leans back on his heels. “Can I trust you?” It’s a terrifying look, a terrifying question. A chill slides insidiously down his spine and Lando is strangely reminded of Vader. He breathes in. Considers his answer.

“You can trust that I’ll get him back by any means necessary.”

“Good.”

*  
He never did a deal with Jabba, so Lando’s the perfect candidate for early infiltration.

He never did a deal with Jabba but there’s a lot he knows about the Hutts and the way they do business. Credits can get you so far. He’s not as young and pretty as he once was, but Lando’s certain that he’s just as charming. And no one really cares as long as your mouth is as good as you say it is.

Jabba’s palace is not a place for dignity.

*  
“Guard,” she says.

“Slave,” he returns.

She stares at him for a moment, rage visible in her eyes. And then her mouth softens, her chin raises. Coy. People are watching. “Wine,” she says. “I’m thirsty.”

“I’m thirsty too,” he shoots back. Jabba’s head has tilted in their direction, away from the madding crowd. Curious. Flirtation on his lips: “I’d like the taste of something sweet.” He swallows then, suddenly horrified at what he’s openly said. Glad for the mask.

She lays back against Jabba’s corpulent form. Shrugs. “I’m sure every man here would.”

He gives her a salute. Takes a step back to turn, turn away from this dangerous moment, when a voice booms out.

“Taste her,” Jabba says. “It’ll take the edge off. I’m tired of her cheek.”

Lando’s eyes meet Leia’s immediately before hopelessly, irrationally, inevitably darting his eyes at the place where Han once was; the frozen figure of a man screaming into nothingness. Now likely screaming in the dungeons below.

He hears her suck in air and he looks back at her, her gaze fixed on him. Uneasy.

Gods, he thinks.

He takes off his mask. Gets close. “Open your mouth, princess,” he says, roughly. Intending something quick and dirty; simple.

“Not there,” Jabba says.

They both look at him now. And Jabba’s laughter booms. “I’ve heard all about your mouth, guard. I want to see you use it.”

Leia trembles a little, he can hear the chain rattle.

His hand grips hers so tight, they both wince. “I’ll be gentle,” he says.

“You will not,” Jabba says. “I want to hear her--”

“--I’m not made of glass,” she snaps, and she spreads her legs apart and her gaze, oh her gaze. Imperious.

If he’s being honest, he’s a little scared of her right now.

Hedonism is not unusual in these halls, so a few stare while the others continue about their business. A few stare as Lando unlocks the metal at her hip, opens it wide. A few stare as Lando looks up at Jabba who nods, his awful lips in a smile. A few stare as Lando moves in close, grips Leia’s thighs, and his lips meet her where she’s wet.

She moans out immediately, an act, and something dark inside of him growls. Wanting, selfishly, for her sounds to be actual. To be _because_ he’s--

He shakes his head. Gets to it. Decides to get lost in the taste of her. Forget the circumstance.

Ask for forgiveness later.

In moments, she’s bucking her hips against him, riding his mouth and her hand finds his tousled hair, tugs on it hard. He wonders at her; no shrinking violet. Accepting this challenge. “Fuck,” she says into the dry air, loud enough for others to hear.

Here and there he hears her whimper with something real, something unfeigned, and it only makes him double his efforts. If she’s not afraid to take this-- this-- as pleasure, he’s not afraid either. He’s good, he’s so good at this. Forgetting himself, he starts to fuck her with fingers, soon three fingers deep as he licks at her clit and she’s undulating against him.

This, a shameful artifice. This, the apparent submission of a princess. This, a farce of subjugation and violence. At his hands.

As wretched as he feels, he’s so glad it’s him. Not--

She comes, loud; the sound rings in his ears, rings in the hall. When Fett turns his head, Lando looks away, wiping his mouth before grabbing his mask. This was a disaster, he thinks, putting it on, covering his face. And then looks at her.

Her face glows with sweat and her expression is-- is-- “I asked for wine.” Imperious as ever, but there’s something softer about her now.

“Bring her wine, as much as she can drink,” Jabba says, chuckling. “And guard, you can taste her any time you like.”

*  
Decades later, she turns to him and tells him of a mission of vital importance. A mission only he can take on. A mission that could change the war.

There’s absolute trust in her eyes. He shifts his weight from one foot to another, fidgets with his hands, and wonders how in hell he deserves it.

*  
It’s not something he’d ever tell Skywalker; the kid’s obviously in love with the princess and might snap his neck for it. But he does tell Han. Tells him as they’re rifling through Han’s closet on the _Falcon_ for something decent she could wear now that they’ve escaped and blown it all to hell. Tells him because Han deserves to know.

Han’s body tenses but then he hums. “She told me-- she told me she killed him. Wrapped her chains around his neck and pulled.”

Lando shivers. The strongest man would have had a hard time with that; she’s made of something harder than titanium.

There’s a pause before Han looks at him, looks fond. “It’s a good thing we both find you so pretty.”

“You can’t see,” Lando shoots back.

Han shrugs and walks out of the room with his arms full of clothing. “That’s the joke, Calrissian, that’s the joke.”

*  
“General,” Mothma says, and he looks up.

He thinks: _who’s the sucker now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from ch4:  
> “You loved him,” the boy says, sneering. His saber filling the hall with red.  
> “And you blotted that bright light out of the sky,” Lando says. “Didn’t you? And for what? Did it not break your soul in half?”


End file.
